February 1st, 2007

Salvete dear readers,

Having recovered from a month-long New Years’ celebration, my trusty staff has finally managed to compile yet another radiant issue of Roderick Popplestone’s Arbitrary Collection: Roderick Popplestone’s Vibrant Tophats of Declining Ambitions. Seeing as you plebeians spent most of the previous year’s salary to fund your alcoholic intake, this issue might be expected to be free of charge. But that is not the case. In fact, we are deducting a hefty amount of money from your bank accounts at this very moment.
These words, too, are costing you money. As well as these.

But all is not about money when it comes to publishing. There is also the matter of artistic value, though, to be honest, who gives a damn. This issue, however, is full of such value.

I would therefore also like to take this opportunity to thank Mr. Balrut Sledgeslough of No. 10 Bungalow Rd., whose multitude of inept poetry submissions and whose every worthless attempt at prose served to keep my employees, and myself, smiling all through January. Balrut, you are without a doubt the worst excuse for a writer whose work I have ever had the misfortune of sampling.

Which reminds me, dear readers: keep submitting your texts! This magazine and the future of the empire depend on it.

And remember: Syphilis can be cured by administering the correct amount of cow dung on your genitalia. In fact, most things can.

Yours superiorly,